Killing England Page 4

  Charlotte’s appearance is of mixed ethnicity, and despite many rumors, her African lineage will not become a matter of public discussion for more than two centuries. Going forward, however, whichever king or queen sits on the British throne will share Charlotte’s African bloodline.3

  * * *

  Since the costly English victory at Bunker Hill three months ago, there have been no further battles between the British and George Washington’s Continental Army. But through a long, wet summer, which has now turned into a cold, wetter autumn, George III has fumed about the American uprising. It could not have come at a worse time for him. The British people have begun to doubt his authority, equally shocked at the colonists’ unruly behavior and the army’s inability to stop it. On September 14, when the transport ship Charming Nancy arrives in Plymouth, England, carrying the wounded British survivors of Bunker Hill, newspapers report the shocking sight of “some without legs and others without arms, and their loose clothes hanging on them like morning gowns.”

  Making the Charming Nancy’s arrival even worse is the presence of sixty widows and children of men lost at Bunker Hill. They are devastated.4 The ship itself reeks of squalor and rotting flesh, an aroma so powerful that it can be smelled before the ship docks. The British may have won the Battle of Bunker Hill, but it is obvious that the victory came at a great price.

  Soon, the returning soldiers began sharing their battlefield memories, explaining how the best-equipped and most highly trained army in all of Europe was nearly defeated by a ragtag bunch of colonists who lacked a clear chain of command. They told of the British general William Howe being so confident of triumph that a servant rode into battle at his side with a bottle of wine to slake the general’s thirst. They also described the bravery of their American opponents, who refused to fire until the British were just fifty yards from their breastworks, thus ensuring massive slaughter of the tightly packed redcoat columns.5 Officers were a favorite target of the colonial militias because of their brightly colored uniforms and the shiny gorgets protecting their throats.

  But it was the horror of the third and final assault on the colonial positions that signaled to the people of England that the Americans had every intention of fighting to the bitter end. The rebels eventually retreated after they ran out of ammunition, with many of them shot in the back as they fled. But those who remained wreaked havoc on the British when their lines were finally breached. Despite the futility of that moment, when all was obviously lost, the Americans threw rocks at the attackers and swung the butts of their muskets as war clubs. British bayonets made quick work of those colonists, slaughtering so many in such a short period of time that the redcoats had to climb over the bodies of the dead to continue fighting the living. One British officer summed up the fighting this way: “[we] expected rather to punish a mob, rather than fight with troops that would look us in the face.”

  * * *

  Shortly before the Charming Nancy’s return to England, George III issues A Proclamation for Suppressing Rebellion and Sedition. He acknowledges that the colonists have been “misled by dangerous and ill designing men, forgetting the allegiance which they owe to the power that has protected and supported them.” He then goes on to authorize atrocities, including murder, allowing British troops to “use their utmost endeavours to withstand and suppress such rebellion.”

  Although King George III is usually a measured man, he is ruthless about imposing British power. Two years ago, the oppressive British Tea Act of 1773 made British tea available in the colonies at a lower price, after tax, than any other imported tea. The colonists saw through this scheme, recognizing that buying this inexpensive tea would mean paying taxes without parliamentary representation, and would set a precedent for further taxation.

  Rather than give in, American colonists dressed up as Indians, raided three British ships in Boston Harbor, and dumped their cargo of tea in the water to protest, an act so flagrant that Parliament passed what have become known as the Coercive Acts.

  It was Prime Minister Lord North’s intent to make an example of Massachusetts in an effort to discourage other colonies from fomenting rebellion. The port of Boston was closed until the destroyed tea was paid for, thereby punishing the entire city for the acts of a few. The Coercive Acts also stated that British officials who faced criminal charges could be tried outside of the colony—meaning that witnesses would be unlikely to attend such a trial. Troops could be housed in any available vacant buildings and were to be fed at the expense of the colonial government. Finally, and perhaps most important, the Massachusetts colonial charter was revoked, in an attempt to give the British government direct control of the colony. It has been twelve years since Great Britain has waged war, but its attempts to strangle Boston and its inhabitants is akin to a military siege. If Parliament has its way, that raucous rebel town will learn the hard way that England is its master.

  The plan backfires. The Coercive Acts (known in America as the Intolerable Acts) are far too punitive. It is clear that Britain no longer believes the American colonists are entitled to the same rights and privileges accorded free men and women in England. The people of Massachusetts create their own government, in defiance of Parliament’s authority. Instead of distancing themselves from the besieged people of Boston, the other colonies band together and form the First Continental Congress. There, the true seeds of sedition are sown.

  The Battles at Lexington and Concord, and now Bunker Hill, are proof that a direr form of punishment is required to control the Americans. For King George, a tipping point has been reached, one from which there can be no return. He is a strict man. The rebels are children who must be slapped, if necessary, to bring them to heel.

  “I am of the opinion that once these rebels have felt a smart blow, they will submit,” George has informed his good friend John Montagu, Fourth Earl of Sandwich and First Lord of the Admiralty. Thus, the king refuses even to read the “Olive Branch Petition” sent by the Continental Congress as a last attempt at reconciliation.

  Now, on this very morning, the man the rebellious colonists once considered their benefactor wants nothing less than their total destruction. George III is a deeply spiritual person, prone to spending hours in prayer. He does not see the rebels as virtuous. Nor does he condone the argument that Parliament has no power to levy taxes upon the colonies. American dissenters believe that because they have no voice in the House of Commons, they have no obligation to pay taxes. King George III is adamant that British colonies obey and provide support to the motherland—and that they not be entitled to any representation. Reports that American colonists see themselves as equal to British subjects have enraged the king. He is having none of that.

  So now he must act—George III means to declare war.

  This declaration is not an act of insanity—though, in time, the heavy amounts of arsenic in the ceremonial wigs the king wears each day may be a reason his urine is turning a vibrant blue and he is losing his mind.6 George III’s actions are a statement of power. He controls thirty-one colonies around the world, some of them gained due to the explorations of Capt. James Cook, who has recently returned from a second circumnavigation of the globe. That voyage brought the newly discovered continent of Australia under the king’s power.

  The loss of the American colonies would be a crushing blow. As an island nation, England is highly dependent on the natural products of its colonies to ensure its wealth. Should the American rebellion be successful, other highly profitable colonies such as Canada and the West Indies might follow suit. Also, rival nations such as Spain and France might see England as weak and pursue their own colonial ambitions more aggressively.

  The loss of the American colonies, in other words, would kill England as the world now knows it.

  “We shall be reduced to a miserable little island,” British writer Horace Walpole will state about the prospect of losing America. “We shall lose the East Indies as Portugal did, and then France will dictate to us more imperious
ly than we did to Ireland.”

  King George is the most powerful man in the world—and he means to remain so.

  * * *

  The House of Lords is a narrow room with the king’s ceremonial throne at the far end. King George III takes his seat as the red-robed peers now look on, waiting to hear why their sovereign has called this early meeting.

  “The present situation of America, and my constant desire to have your advice, concurrence and assistance, on every important occasion, have determined me to call you thus early together,” George tells them. As a child, he was often depressed and somber. In adulthood, that demeanor has given way to a powerful air of steely determination.

  “The rebellious war now levied [has] become more general, and is manifestly carried on for the purpose of establishing an independent empire. I need not dwell upon the fatal effects of the success of such a plan. The object is too important, the spirit of the British nation too high, the resources with which God hath blessed her too numerous, to give up so many colonies which she has planted with great industry, nursed with great tenderness, encouraged with many commercial advantages, and protected and defended at much expense of blood and treasure.”

  Then, in words designed to strike fear into the heart of George Washington, King George III makes clear his intentions—and, in so doing, makes it equally clear that America now stands alone.

  “It is now become the part of wisdom, and (in its effects) of clemency, to put a speedy end to these disorders by the most decisive exertions. For this purpose, I have increased my naval establishment, and greatly augmented my land forces; but in such a manner as may be the least burthensome to my kingdoms.

  “I have also the satisfaction to inform you, that I have received the most friendly offers of foreign assistance.”

  The king finishes his speech to rousing cheers.

  Three thousand miles away, George Washington has no idea of the horror that is coming his way.

  3

  DORCHESTER HEIGHTS, MASSACHUSETTS

  MARCH 4, 1776

  5:42 P.M.

  His Excellency Gen. George Washington is apprehensive.

  The evening air thunders with rebel cannon. Flames belch from the cast-iron barrels with each blast, illuminating the sky over Boston Harbor. Washington watches with approval, mounted on the back of Blueskin, a spirited white half-Arabian horse who sometimes grows skittish at the sounds of battle.1 Within moments, after eight months of waiting, Washington hopes to deliver a cruel and hopefully deadly blow to the British Army.

  Despite the welcome presence of his beloved Martha, who has traveled from Virginia to be with him at his headquarters in Cambridge, the Massachusetts winter has been a long and bitterly cold challenge for the general. Shortages of cannon, muskets, and gunpowder have limited his ability to wage war on the British forces who occupy Boston. The soldiers in his army are deserting in droves, done in by a winter so cold that men actually freeze to death on guard duty. Nevertheless, Washington imposes strict discipline on his troops, hoping to counter the boredom of the months-long stalemate with the British Army.

  LEGEND HERE

  The initial euphoria of being named commander in chief has long since passed for Washington, replaced by the fear that he has made a very big mistake.

  “I have often thought how much happier I should have been if, instead of accepting a command under such circumstances, I had taken my musket on my shoulders and entered the ranks,” he has written to a friend.

  Four times since July, Washington has presented to his council of war detailed plans to attack Boston. And four times the council has voted him down.2 During a February cold snap Washington was consumed with a far-fetched scheme to send thousands of troops across the frozen waters of Boston Harbor but was overruled by his more practical-minded generals.

  Yet, that plan was doomed to failure, as Washington was overruled by his more practical-minded generals. Cannon on British warships anchored offshore would have made short work of his army. The hard truth is that Washington has a very small band of soldiers under his command, many of whom do not yet believe they can defeat the mighty British. The only way to change their minds is actually to fight. Washington’s men know that their cause is just—now they need to know that their leader is able.

  * * *

  For two days, beginning at midnight on March 2, American cannon have pounded the besieged city of Boston. The British Army has responded in kind, firing salvo after salvo at the American artillery batteries atop Cobble Hill, Lechmeres Point, and Lamb’s Dam. Such exchanges have become purposeful. The Americans fire because they want to keep the British pinned down in Boston and to remind the five hundred redcoats hunkering within their Bunker Hill fortifications that they can go no farther.

  The British fire back to assure the Americans that any attempt to attack Boston on the ground will be answered in force.

  On nights when there is no shelling, rebel gunners can hear the sounds of tavern socializing and city life carrying across the bay on the wind. On nights when their cannon fire so often that the barrels glow, these same men hear the distant screams of women and children being driven from their homes by crashing cannonballs. As if that anguish were not enough, some patriot artillerymen wonder if those screams are those of their own wives and children. Women are already playing a crucial role in the war effort, managing homes and businesses while their husbands man the front lines. The women had little choice in this matter, just as the men who are rebelling had no choice but to leave their families behind in Boston, there to endure the hardships of life under British martial law.

  The harsh rigor of British tyranny rose to new heights two years ago, in 1774, when the British Parliament passed the punitive Boston Port Act. This law closed Boston to all commercial shipping until the city made complete restitution for the cargo dumped in the harbor during what has become known as the Boston Tea Party. Overnight, shipwrights, sailors, coopers, and dock laborers who formed the majority of Boston’s workingmen lost their jobs.

  “It is now a very gloomy place,” one Boston resident wrote to friends in England. “The streets are almost empty and many families have departed.”

  That was just the first exodus. One year later, in April 1775, the British expelled thousands of patriots after the skirmishes at Lexington and Concord. Entire families, suspected of rebel activity, were forced to leave their homes, not knowing if they would ever return. The causeway connecting Boston to the mainland became choked with these instant refugees, men and women leading their children while pulling carts laden with all their earthly possessions. Most spent that summer roaming the countryside in search of work and a place to sleep. By winter, homes throughout the colony became hostels for the displaced. Following a plea by the colonial government, it has become common for Massachusetts homeowners to invite refugees into their homes. Some kind souls even provide lodging for two or three entire families.

  Among them is thirty-one-year-old Abigail Adams. “Every town is filled with the distressed inhabitants of Boston,” she writes to her husband, John, still serving as a delegate to the Second Continental Congress in Philadelphia. The Adamses live on a farm in the town of Braintree, due south of Boston but close enough that cannon fire keeps Abigail awake at night. “It would make your heart ache to see what difficulties and distresses the poor Boston people are driven to,” she writes her husband.

  Abigail Adams herself knew such loss. Her mother and her niece died of smallpox within weeks of each other in October 1775.

  But it is not just American patriots who face hardship. Citizens of Massachusetts still loyal to King George are also being forced from their homes. As those being evicted from Boston jam the causeway on their way out of town, British Loyalists travel in the opposite direction, headed into Boston, to find sanctuary after months of being abused by fellow colonists for their allegiance to the king.

  Whether patriot or Loyalist, most displaced families long to return home once hostilities end. The
y can only pray that their vacant houses will not be vandalized and the remainder of their possessions not plundered.

  Those prayers will go unanswered. In Boston, despite orders prohibiting the looting of private property, British soldiers make it a habit to enter abandoned homes and take what they like.

  It is even worse for the Loyalists. Massachusetts patriots are already in the process of permanently stripping homes and businesses from their possession. They can never come back again.

  * * *

  The Boston that George Washington now sees is a closed city, a collection of destroyed homes and filthy boulevards inhabited by a starving, war-weary populace eagerly praying for summer. The only way in or out is with a special pass.

  General William Howe

  Survival takes many forms. For ladies of the night, there is no difference between patriot and Loyalist. Though the British soldiers may be short on food, they are still getting paid. The prostitutes of Boston ply their trade in the red-light district known as “Mount Whoredom,” risking not just syphilis and gonorrhea, but the spread of lice that comes with intimate human contact.3 Throughout the city, the dirty snow is covered in human waste. Garbage fills the streets, fueling an epidemic of “diarrhea, dysentery, food poisoning, malnutrition, pleuritical disorders, respiratory infections, arthritis, rheumatism, scurvy, and typhoid-typhus,” in the words of one resident.